


Crossroads

by litsasecret



Series: Werelynx [2]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Biting, Gen, Marking, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-03
Updated: 2011-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-22 03:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/233437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litsasecret/pseuds/litsasecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/162677">Kick Me Like a Stray</a>. In which we realize that just because you mutually trust and respect someone, doesn't mean your relationship is <i>easy</i>. Or "The one in which Tommy is a flighty little lynx and Adam feels helpless."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossroads

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zoodlemouse13](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Zoodlemouse13).



> Much thanks to aislinnTLC for reassuring me it didn't suck, the title, and the emergency last minute beta; and less critically, Depeche Mode for writing the album Black Celebration so I could both bug the hell out of my roommate ("Is that MUSIC??") and write this thing.
> 
>  _Written for my girl Zoodlemouse13 on the occasion of her birthday._ Apparently what it takes for me to write more in this verse is for a very good friend to have a birthday that LJ totally failed to alert me about, leading me to learn of it only 4 hours before the date itself. Desperate, I took her "subliminal message" of simply saying "werelynx" over and over as a hint, and lo:

The buses looked out of place at the truckstop, shiny sleek monstrosities against a dingy gray backdrop, outclassing the trucks lined up in tidy, silent rows without even trying. Somehow, it made them seem smaller, lesser. They were the interlopers, not the trucks.

Tommy felt sort of like that when he walked inside, the greasy floor of the diner slick under his creepers, the smell of stale potatoes overwhelming his senses momentarily. He’d lingered behind, trying to find a hoodie that covered up his neck but wasn’t rank with someone else’s sweat, and failing.

If it had been Adam’s scent, sure, he could have stood that, but Adam didn’t wear hoodies, just leather and today, plaid. So he’d put on a completely different shirt, one that skimmed his chest like a second skin, exposed his shoulders and throat and defied everyone to look their fill.

It was another way of hiding, after all.

The dining room was full, unsurprisingly, and people were staring. He knew they were staring and he wanted to look up and stare back, defiant, but he couldn’t. Not yet. Not here. Instead, he quietly asked the hostess where she’d seated the rest of the pack, and she smiled and touched his arm.

She smelled like baby powder and coffee. He tried to muster a smile for her, and failed.

None of them acknowledged him when he slid into the booth; their conversation continued on around him, though he knew if he tucked up close against Adam’s side, he’d get his hair stroked. But everyone who tucked up close got that. It was like a rule or something.

He took the sticky menu and stared at it for several moments, unblinking, unseeing, until Isaac reached across, “Come on, man, I need to pick too! Not all of us just order the closest thing to fresh kill on the menu and grimace at it when it isn’t rare enough.”

Tommy looked up at him, slow motion. He couldn’t smile for Isaac either.

“I want pancakes,” Brooke said firmly.

Isaac snorted. “ _You_ aren’t the one I’m talking about.”

“Y’all Weres?” a gruff, burly man across the way asked, and Tommy’s hackles raised. He snarled without thinking about it, feral and defensive and utterly useless.

“Nah, just half of us,” Adam replied easily, a hand dropping to Tommy’s neck, clearly broadcasting _something_ , if only Tommy were able to figure it out.

If only Tommy were _willing_ to figure it out.

“That one yours?” the man asked. Tommy shuddered, stomach roiling, and he had to fight down his impulses to hide.

Adam’s voice was colder than steel when he replied. “Yes.”

Tommy could smell aggression rolling off him in waves.

“Looks to me like he doesn’t like that, so much,” the man said. Startled, Tommy looked across at him, opened his senses to the stranger, as well as his pack.

He smelled of aggression too.

“You know what they say about appearances only telling half the story,” Adam said, still ice cold. His fingers tightened their hold, until Tommy could picture the marks they’d leave, bruising purple then brown then back to pale skin.

The wrong sort of marks.

The only marks he deserved, really.

The man laughed and shook his head. “Heard that before, I’m afraid. But I don’t take shit like that for an answer.” He stood, and Tommy felt the tightening net of the pack sense try to envelope him. He resisted, drawing a knee up to tuck against his chin so he could focus on the creases the too-tight denim was digging into his hips instead of the vague emotion-exchange going on behind him.

“I’m Officer Dale Goff,” the man said. “And I’d like to speak to this man alone, if you don’t mind.”

Adam’s voice was half growl when he replied, “I mind.”

“Me?” Tommy asked, startled into speaking. “But. Why?”

“You don’t have to stay with him. There’s laws in this state, and I know a safe place you can stay for awhile. Get back on your feet.”

“I’m… what?” Tommy asked, inching backwards against Adam. “I’m safe. I’m safe. I’m okay. I’m fine,” he said, like if he repeated it often enough, it would be true.

“Look, it’s okay to ask for help,” Goff said, gentle.

Adam moved behind Tommy, and suddenly his arm was around Tommy’s chest, and he was being tugged around, tucked on the other side of Adam.

Isaac laughed. “If you knew—“ he said, cutting himself off with more laughter. He sobered after a moment. “Adam didn’t hurt Tommy,” he said. “Adam took care of that wolf.”

Goff eyed them all, and Tommy ducked down so he didn’t have to look. His chest hurt, overwhelmingly, and he realized his breath was coming in pants.

He managed to retain his human form. Barely.

“If you’re sure,” Goff said, before shuffling back into his seat. Adam turned toward the table again.

“Glad we didn’t come through here a week ago,” Adam said lightly. Tommy blushed red and bit his lip. Adam tucked Tommy up against his side, body heat leeching into Tommy. Tommy didn’t pull away.

After they had given their orders to the waitress, Neil fixed Tommy with a stare.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he said flatly.

“What?” Tommy asked. He couldn’t help it he was hurt. Adam was hurt worse though, and no one worried about _him_ needing help.

“Resist the pack sense like that. It makes it harder on all of us.”

“But, I—“

Neil cut him off, “I don’t care. It’s headache-inducing at best, and it makes us _lose you_ in the middle of a fight at worst. I don’t like it.”

Tommy remembered the fight, remembered trying to tell Neil to help Adam. Then he thought of Nick’s pack, and the fierce way he’d retained his independence, at least in his thoughts.

“Please, don’t ask me that,” Tommy said, and to his surprise, his voice came out mostly level.

“I’m not asking,” Neil said.

“Neil!” Adam snapped. “That’s enough.”

Neil glared at Adam, then subsided, pointedly ignoring their side of the table while they waited for their food. Tommy bit his lip harder.

“I gotta get up,” he murmured. Adam shifted out of the booth so Tommy could stand up. When Adam made to follow him, Tommy waved him off. “I just gotta piss,” he said as lightly as he could.

He couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed when Adam didn’t insist on coming along anyway.

Tommy was methodically scrubbing at his hands in the dingy sink when the door to the men’s room swung open behind him.

Goff stood framed in the entranceway.

“Are you really sure?” the man asked, and he looked defeated.

“I don’t need your help,” Tommy said carefully. “But someone else will,” he offered.

“I just can’t stand to see it. How do you—It’s so _violent_.”

“It’s life,” Tommy said simply.

“But, I can’t believe that you want to walk around like… that.”

“Bruised?”

“ _Claimed_ ,” Goff bit out.

“I’m not Claimed,” Tommy said. “It’s… complicated.”

“You’ve got someone’s teeth in your throat on a regular basis. I don’t see how _that_ could be complicated.”

“Not anymore. He took me without my Alpha’s permission,” Tommy said, trying to be nice, because the thought was growing in his mind that someday, some other Were might need Goff’s interference.

That if things had gone wrong, _he_ might have needed Goff’s interference.

“That doesn’t make sense. He shouldn’t take you even _with_ your Alpha’s permission. The whole establishment is just plain barbaric.”

Tommy took a breath. Then another. “Adam would never give permission,” he said softly. “Or I wouldn’t be in his pack.”

“Look,” Goff said. “Just, give it a week. Stay with me and my wife, and you’ll see. I promise, you’ll see.”

“No,” Tommy said firmly. The person he was saying it to might be a normal human, but it was good practice. He hadn’t had enough practice at that in life, through no fault of anyone’s.

Goff took two steps forward and rested a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy reacted instinctively, jerking away and whipping around, teeth bared, to face the attack.

Adam flew through the door and slammed Goff against a wall.

“Don’t touch him,” he snarled.

Surprise and shame curled through Tommy’s gut, nauseating him. He would always need rescuing, he thought in despair.

“You’re really not convincing me he doesn’t need my help,” Goff said, sounding strained.

“You’re not convincing me that if he _did_ , you’d be equipped to help him,” Adam replied.

“And you’re so prepared for the job?” Goff asked, smirking. “You just shove him into the background so no one can see he’s hurt. What am I supposed to think, that you’re doing it out of love and consideration for his dignity? You fucked up. I don’t care what your unwritten lore says about claiming. I can help him, you can’t. Let me.”

“I haven’t claimed him,” Adam said, stepping back.

Goff rubbed his shoulder, wincing.

“Whatever. Just—don’t hassle the waitress or anything. I give up.” He stormed toward the door, muttering under his breath about ‘fucking unreasonable Weres.’

“Hey there, kitty,” Adam said, voice rough and rumbling in his throat, nearly a purr.

“I didn’t think he’d touch me,” Tommy said. _I didn’t think you’d stop him,_ he thought.

“He meant well. He was probably right, about… about me being prepared to help you. I wish I knew what to say, how to make it better. I tried, but—he’s dead. That’s the part I’m good at. I can do the big stuff, the obvious stuff, but then, beyond that. I don’t _know._ ”

“I’m not okay,” Tommy said, and it was a confession that tore from him unwilling.

Adam wrapped him close, his scent wrapping around Tommy like a blanket, like safety and surety and everything he hadn’t had since he’d left his mother’s house.

“I know,” Adam said desperately. “You think I don’t know that?”

“You want me to be okay, so I tried, and I hoped you wouldn’t—“

“That was wrong, Tommy. I was wrong to say that. I was tired, and you were hurt and I couldn’t handle it all.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Tommy said, in a tiny, quiet voice like maybe Adam wouldn’t hear it.

Adam snorted. “That’s the way it is though.”

“Goff thinks it’s barbaric,” Tommy said.

“It’s instinct. I guess that could be barbarism, but only if that makes normal humans Roman Citizens.”

Tommy laughed slightly at that, but it hurt and made his eyes itch and his head ache, like if he let out one emotion, they’d all escape, laid out bare on the floor of a dingy truck stop bathroom.

Adam reached up to run his hand through Tommy’s hair, soft and rhythmic. “It’s okay to cry,” he said.

“No it isn’t,” Tommy retorted. “Just one more thing to rescue me from.”

Adam shook his head before running his hands through his hair. “This is… I figured you’d trust me by now, at least.”

Tommy shook his head, confused. Of course he trusted Adam. It wasn’t about _trust_. It was about… _Dignity_ , he thought, remembering Goff’s words.

“We should go back. Our food will be out soon,” Adam said, wrapping a hand around Tommy’s wrist to guide him back to the table.

***

“Come here,” Adam called softly when he sensed Tommy making his way to his bunk. He was somewhat surprised when Tommy did, but their conversation earlier had barely scratched the surface.

“I do trust you,” Tommy said, before he even climbed in with Adam. “Just, we have to be clear on that.”

“If you trust me, then why don’t you trust my motives?” Adam asked. “I don’t see you as a victim.”

“But… I am though.”

Adam sighed, reaching to tug Tommy into the close, dark space with him. It was a tight fit, but comfortable. Tommy’s slight warmth next to his felt somehow _right_.

“Oh,” Tommy said, a burst of air more than a word. Adam smiled into the dark.

“You aren’t. You’re a Were, and a carnivore at that. I’ve got scars you laid into my skin, and I’m proud to wear them.” Adam felt Tommy shift next to him, knew his hand had lifted to touch the still-pink scars across his cheek.

“You’re in my pack,” Adam said.

“Sometimes I think you regret that.”

Adam stiffened. “Why?” he demanded, the word twisting his lips.

“You don’t want to claim me, do you?”

He did. He ached with the need to overlay that wolf’s mark on Tommy’s throat. “That has nothing to do with pack,” Adam said, instead. “I don’t want to claim Isaac or Cassidy.”

“You did before,” Tommy said. “And now I’m a victim, and you don’t anymore.”

Adam shook his head, unable to put the words together properly. He didn’t know what to say. But he had instincts for a reason, to fill in the holes words left in their wake.

He rolled over in the bunk, pressing his weight down across Tommy’s slight frame, and kissed him.

Tommy reached up, gripping Adam’s biceps tight enough to hurt, but not pushing him away, and Adam smiled against Tommy’s lips, dragging one hand up to seize a fistful of silky hair and wrench his head back.

“Now you’re wearing another Were’s mark, and all I can see is him, hurting you.”

“I let him,” Tommy said, gasping between the words.

“I know you,” Adam replied. “You no more _let him_ than I would.”

Tommy’s eyes flicked open, reflecting in the dark.

“You didn’t come, and I thought I was alone.”

“You were wrong, then.”

Tommy closed his eyes again.

“Aren’t you going to fight me? Aren’t you going to be the kitty I met in that club, fierce and independent?”

Tommy shook his head against Adam’s grip and tightened his fingers. Adam could feel where nails had shifted almost into claws against his skin, needle point sparks of pain.

“I was just as scared then,” Tommy admitted.

“Of me?” Adam prompted. He didn’t know what Tommy would say, he didn’t dare _hope._

“You aren’t—no. Me, I think.”

Adam laughed, then. “I thought you were a victim,” he said.

“And I was scared of that.”

“And now?”

Tommy didn’t reply, just opened his eyes again, piercing Adam with his gaze, before he was a lynx, and then he was gone. Adam cursed even as he shifted and gave chase, the two of them entering the lounge at the same time, startling Isaac and Jeremy to the point that Jeremy fell off the couch.

Adam barely paid them any attention, instead stalking Tommy like he was prey, cornering him before he leapt, and once Tommy was caught Adam simply pinned him with a paw and started grooming him thoroughly, ignoring the harsh vocal protests Tommy was emitting and paying close attention to his ears before moving on to his belly.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Jeremy demanded, face white.

Isaac laughed. “I think it’s a mating ritual,” he said sagely, before leaning over to whisper in a voice completely audible to Adam and Tommy; “I _hope_ it’s a mating ritual.”

*We’re going back to bed now,* Adam announced calmly, before scooping Tommy up by the scruff of his neck and taking him back to the bunks. Tommy fought the whole way, hissing and spitting like a pro, and Adam ignored him pointedly.

“Caught you,” Adam murmured, human again and petting silky fur that became human hair under his palm.

Tommy glared at him, a fierce scowl Adam hadn’t seen since before the thing with the wolves. Adam laughed outright, then bent to nuzzle at the spot of Nick’s claim mark, not biting, but making his interest plain.

“When this heals,” Adam whispered. “When this heals, I’ll ask you. I hope you know that.”

Tommy lay stiffly beneath Adam, not even breathing, and Adam felt that horrible helplessness creep back over him. He didn’t know what to do for Tommy, and he wondered if he ever would. That cop from earlier had had it right; he wasn’t equipped for this.

“What if I say no?” Tommy whispered, finally.

Adam blinked in the dark. “Then I won’t claim you. But I can’t promise I won’t keep asking.”

“What if I never say yes?” Tommy asked.

Adam froze. He had to think about that, about Tommy playing guitar on stage next to him, unmarked, forever. About other people touching him, and Adam having little recourse to stop him.

He growled despite himself.

Tommy flinched and tried to roll away.

“Maybe I should just leave. I know a couple of guys who can play, and they’re mostly okay with the… with us. I don’t want—“

“I’ll never touch you if you don’t want,” Adam blurted, and it came out too loud in the close darkness, and in the front lounge, the tv suddenly grew quieter.

He softened his tone. “I told you once that real consent matters. I meant that.”

“It… never has before,” Tommy said. “I don’t know if…”

He inhaled and was quiet.

Adam didn’t dare move.

“I said I trust you,” Tommy said finally. “I meant that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Omigosh I can't believe I revisited this verse, seriously. Love you, *collapses in a heap of angst.*


End file.
